Could Have, Would Have, Should Have
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: Another case of Grissom thinking... could have, would have, should have.


Title: Could Have, Would Have, Should Have

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: PG-13

Category: Angst, hellah bad.

Lyrics property of Guster.

To tell you the truth, I've said it before

Tomorrow I'll start in a new direction

One last time these words from me

I'm never saying them again

And I shut the light

And listen as my watch unwinds

She would have been yours, you fool, she could have been yours.

That would've been you, idly fumbling at her back as you opened the door for her. But you'd have been much less suave. And you certainly wouldn't have bent over to whisper something in her ear.

Why whisper to her ear when you can speak directly to her eyes, see the fire there. But never again, no fire for you, not ever again.

There used to be a light in her eyes, a hope, a hope for you that someday, one day, you'd come around and love her like she'd been longing to love you for years. For years. There was no light there now, just a dull glow, as she looked at him, and not you; as she smiled her little gap-toothed grin at him, not you.

Never you, never again. It makes you hurt and it makes you want to bleed and it makes you drink, drink, drink until her face is obscured in your mind's eye and you can fantasize about her like you did before. Before she was a taken woman. Before, when she wanted you and you didn't want her.

You hear the seconds from the kitchen clock tick off in your ears and you wonder for a moment, if you could have thirty of those seconds back, unobscured by the reality that she was wearing a ring on her finger, what you would say. What you would say to her if you knew then what you know now, that it's so hard living without the prospect of her in your life.

It was unfair to make her wait; it was unfair to yourself to think that she would ever wait that long for you.

There's been something I've been meaning to do, I've been dying to tell you, I've been so damned tired...

That should have been you, grasping her hand in yours, bringing it to your lips for a brief kiss. A promise of something more? Comfort? But no, no, you wouldn't have kissed her hand, and the palm that you grasped her hand with would have been sweaty with perspiration and she would have wanted to cry because you were so nervous.

So nervous after waiting so long. Time didn't heal all wounds, it just made them fester, right in front of you until you had to escape from the pain. Somehow, anyhow. Time had preserved the friendship, dried and stuck on a pin, an exhibit of something once vibrant and alive as any butterfly.

But your desire never waned, and neither did hers. You still wished to know the feeling of her thighs as they wrapped around you, the sounds she made when she slept, if she would run you out of hot water in the morning when she took her shower.

By now, you should have been making grocery lists and discussing who was going to make dinner. You should have been attempting not to out your relationship at work, by now. You should have known by now what it felt like to be inside of her, loving he like you needed to do.

You needed to love her before and you still do now.

But he plays her music at night, and it's alright that he brings his work home with him. Because he sings to her. And he can tell his coworkers about her without at least a twinge of shame. He can voice their love through lyrics and people can listen and understand and fall in love with her simply through his words.

You think that she is well loved, she has all she could want in the world but you miss the fact that there's a small corner of her heart that will never be rid of you.

I feel the need to be the demon, a demon cannot be hurt...

That could have been you, undressing her by her bed, letting the fabric pool to the floor in a whisper of relief that surely would have matched your own. It could have been your hands tracing over her heated skin, your lips telling her just how much you loved her and for just precisely how long.

You, there, moving inside of her, her lips puffing out how good you felt, how long she'd waited to have you that way, how happy, happy, happy she is. You could have been inside of her, inside, where you've always wanted to be. The tears streaming down her cheeks when she comes, telling you, you, how wonderful you are.

And you could have spooned your body beside hers and kissed the nape of her neck and told her just once more before she floated to sleep how perfect she is and how much you love her.

She'll never marry him and you wonder if you ever would have built up enough courage, done away with all the rationalizations and slipped a ring on her finger. You figure not, but if there were any woman you'd do that for, it would have been her. If she had asked, just asked you now, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

But it has to be past tense now, it has to be. Has to be loved. Because when she looks at you now you know that she can see it in your eyes, naked and yearning and pathetic. No wonder she looks away.

It would have, it could have, it should have... and you can't place just how much you hate yourself for being such a damned coward.

So go on, if it makes you happier, got you this far, do what you have to...


End file.
